The steady downpour incessantly battered the windows of the house.
Under the veil of night, a dim, yellowish glow emanated from the rooms inside the house, whose old furnishings and furniture indicated that its owner was not particularly wealthy.
Through the windowpane, one could vaguely discern not towering buildings but rows of irregularly growing trees by the roadside, clearly indicating that the location was not within the city but rather on its outskirts.
Inside the house, a faint groan was audible.
In the living room, a tall figure clad in a black coat extended his hand and, with a grip strong as iron, clutched another figure by the neck, slamming him violently against the wall and lifting him off the floor.
"Please, I beg you, don't do this."
The man, whose throat was tightly grasped, pleaded in terror. His body was robust and muscular, likely due to regular physical training or laborious work. His slightly curly blond hair and pale skin, along with his light blue eyes filled with fear, were evident.
He could hardly believe what had happened before.
In front of this man, his own strength seemed as negligible as that of a child, utterly powerless to resist.
He recognized the person before him as someone akin to a grim reaper.
Under the dim yellow light, his dark skin, black leather coat, and the long sword he carried on his back were illuminated.
"Why."
The man's deep voice filled the frightened muscular man with confusion.
"What?"
"Lately, I've been unable to find you lot, the kind who, like foul-smelling rats, used to infest the city. But recently you've ceased your activities. What are you hiding from? What has driven you to do this? I need to know."
With a grim smile, the muscular man revealed sharp teeth, confirming his identity as a vampire.
"A man like you, a Daywalker."
"During your absence, another fearsome figure has been hunting us down. He has a scent-tracking ability like that of a hunting dog, able to locate all of us, then slaughtering us. Three vampire clans have been massacred, powerless to resist."
"So, you fled the city out of fear?" the man known as the Daywalker interrupted.
"Yes, he's a butcher, his methods far crueler and more terrifying than yours. Any vampire he targets cannot escape. We, who have no clan to rely on, had to flee the city and survive barely on the blood of animals."
Shivering, the muscular man spoke of the butcher, his face undisguised with fear—deeper even than what he felt for the Daywalker before him.
Even the mere mention of the name drained him of courage.
"An interesting person, another vampire hunter?" The Daywalker's face cracked a grim smile.
"Interesting? He's an executioner, Daywalker. No vampire can escape his gaze, and all, young and old, will die by his hand. Don't forget, you are a vampire too." The muscular man said with a bitter laugh.
Hearing this, the Daywalker showed no fear or dread, merely gazing at the vampire before him and softly saying, "Goodbye."
As he finished speaking, his other hand thrust a silver-dusted short sword into the muscular man's heart.
In the next moment, with a terrible scream, the vampire burst into flames and smoke, burning until he was reduced to ashes.
After killing the vampire, the Daywalker coldly turned and walked towards the door, leaving the house.
Outside, a black Ford muscle car was parked.
He opened the car door, sat down, put on sunglasses, and drove away from the scene, leaving no one else to know that a vampire had just quietly perished in this remote location.
Driving on, the car entered a garage on the West of New York.
In the rain, he got out of the car, indifferent to the rain soaking him, and entered the garage filled with various customized motorcycles, sports cars, and equipment for forging weapons.
"Seems you're in a good mood, Blade. Did you find the answers you were looking for?"
At the center of the garage, an old man with white hair holding a modified short shotgun watched as his vigilant expression faded.
Blade took off his black leather coat, revealing a tight undershirt and strong muscles, and hung his sword on a nearby rack.
"A man like me appeared during this time, massacring those scum, causing them to flee the city in fear."
Blade casually picked up a newly forged weapon from a nearby metal table, inspecting it as he spoke.
The old man was surprised, "Although I've noticed someone very active recently, I didn't expect it to be this—a new vampire hunter? I've never heard of such a top hunter coming to New York."
"And it seems his scent is even sharper than yours, Blade."
"I don't know his identity, but he's not from the hunter circles."
"Why so sure?"
"No hunter operating alone has ever managed to instill such fear in the vampire population of New York, causing them to flee simultaneously. Such scenario has never happened before." Blade frowned as he spoke.
Vampires are a species known for their resilience and ability to reproduce. They excel at concealing themselves in the darkness and possess an ancient history. They have learned harsh lessons from numerous wars, as human weaponry has grown increasingly powerful. Knowing that spreading like a virus to dominate the world would not work, vampires have learned to hide among people.
With the existence of vampires, naturally, hunters would emerge. However, hunters have never been the predominant force. The idea that the presence of a single hunter could cause all vampires in a city to flee out of fear was unimaginable even to Blade himself.
If such a hunter truly existed, he would be well-known within the hunter circles.
Thus, this person must have a different identity.
~~~
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